


The Hangover

by van_helsa124



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: AU, Accidental Marriage, F/M, M/M, Memory Loss, Multi, The Hangover - Freeform, Waking Up in Vegas, drunk marriage, stiles gets bit, the bite, werewolf Stiles
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-05-24
Updated: 2015-08-21
Packaged: 2018-04-01 00:46:44
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 13
Words: 15,826
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3999523
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/van_helsa124/pseuds/van_helsa124
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Stiles and the pack visit Vegas to blow off some steam, only to wake up with no memory of the night before. After interrogating Peter for information they quickly realise that: Boyd is missing, a rival pack has declared a blood feud, hunters are on their trail ...and, oh yeah, Derek and Stiles are married.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Waking Up In Vegas

**Author's Note:**

> Written from a request on tumblr.  
> "can you possibly write a teen wolf one where the pack wakes up in Las Vagas (The Hangover style, i don't know if you've seen that movie) and everything is chaos and stiles and derek wake up married? please? ooooohhh, could you maybe make sure everyone is there? like jackson and erica and byd, oh and peter too!"

It felt like Stiles had been sleeping for a week. His muscles were stiff and his head was that special kind of fuzzy that only came with a particularly spectacular hangover. He blinked for a few seconds to try and clear his head but it didn’t work. Stiles put it down to probable dehydration and slight alcohol poisoning and tried his hardest to recall something, anything, which might be useful.  
If he could remember the night before than maybe it would explain why his mouth tasted like an ashtray and he was currently tangled in the warmest, most uncomfortable puppy pile he’d ever been in. He had a face full of brown curls and Lydia draped over his legs. It would have been a dream position if he didn’t have Jackson lying on his ankles and either Boyd or Derek (he couldn’t really tell) pressed against his back with their arms around him. Stiles started to try and squirm free but the wolf at his back growled warningly- definitely Derek then.  
Maybe it was the fact that he didn’t want to be mauled by a grumpy werewolf, or that his stomach had lurched dangerously at the attempted movement, but Stiles found himself stilling his efforts to escape the pile. He didn’t really fancy being breakfast and he was also pretty sure Allison wouldn’t appreciate him throwing up in her hair.  
Breathing deep Stiles stared at the brown head of hair in front of him, breathing in the scent of fresh hair dye and trying to remember what the hell happened the night before, because he was pretty sure it would explain a whole lot… like why he was using a pile of cash for a pillow for example.

(The Evening before… 12 hours earlier)

Stiles dropped his bag in one of the empty rooms of their apartment. Apparently Derek hadn’t been too eager to share a bed so he’d paid for this fancy ass villa with his own money- yes that’s right, his own money. Stiles knew Derek had some cash stashed away. But the fact the dude hadn’t even blinked at the several thousand dollar price tag, was leaving Stiles to wonder exactly how much he had sitting in the bank.  
Their villa/apartment/thing was a sight to be seen though. It was like something out of one of those magazines you read at the dentist, all shiny with glass and chrome fittings and furniture you could only hope of being successful enough to own… so why Stiles was currently sitting on a couch that probably cost more than his car he had no clue.  
Oh right, it was because of Peter.  
When he’d suggested they all get really good fake IDs and take a trip to Vegas, Stiles had only been kidding. He didn’t expect Peter to show up with some official looking driving licences and announce that the pack was going on a road trip. Hell, he certainly hadn’t expected Derek to agree or for Mrs McCall to approve and offer to cover for them. So the fact that they were actually here, in Vegas, was a little baffling. 

Glancing at his watch, Stiles tapped his foot against the edge of the coffee table. He felt the couch next to him dip as Scott and Isaac joined him in waiting for the others to be ready. Both of his friends had gone for simple suits, Scott’s was charcoal and Isaac’s was kind of light grey.  
Stiles had gone for black. It was the only suit of any kind he owned and, unlike the others, he didn’t consider himself pack enough to ask Derek to buy him a new one. Sure this one was getting a little snug, but it still kinda fit and it was just going to be for one night after all.  
Lydia and Jackson emerged from their room looking like a pair of runway models. Both were rich enough to buy their own damn clothes so they hadn’t needed Derek’s money either. Stiles was quickly beginning to feel like the odd one out. He looked like a frickin pigeon amongst peacocks. Maybe he should have begged the alpha like the others?

When everyone was suited and booted and ready to head out the door, Stiles made sure to put some emergency cash in a jar under their kitchen sink (yes they had a kitchen because, holy shit their room was awesome). That way if they all came back broke then at least they had an emergency fund to get them home.  
“So where are we going first?” Isaac asked closing the door behind him.  
Derek was about to answer when Peter cut him off, “As the only one who has actually been to Vegas before, might I make a suggestion?”  
The group blinked at the elder werewolf expectantly, even Derek. Apparently their cluelessness showed because it made Peter chuckle.  
“Right this way then…”

(Present)

Somehow he’d managed to turn so that he was staring up at the ceiling and Stiles counted that as an achievement. Derek’s arms were like a vice and with every attempt to get away they’d only tightened. The brown haired girl who was apparently Erica (Stiles guessed that was where the smell of hair dye was coming from), hadn’t stirred in the tiniest either and that was beginning to worry him.  
Had they been drugged?  
It was a really possibility. Knowing their luck with hunters someone could have slipped something in their drinks while they weren’t looking. Stiles panicked for a second. Were they going to die? What if they couldn’t find the antidote in time? Seeing as though they were probably dosed last night, it was probably too late for an antidote…  
Stiles’s train of thought was effectively derailed by the sound of someone moving across the room.  
He tried to sit up to see but wasn’t fast enough. There was a flurry of claws and limbs as the wolves around him leaped to their feet, growling viscously and eyes flashing.  
Now normally Stiles would have been terrified to have the pack on red alert, but his brain was running too slow to process everything at once.  
He followed their gaze to the corner of the room where Peter sat at the kitchen table sipping his coffee. One of the Argent’s sonic emitters sat across from him flashing slowly and Stiles was pretty sure that that was what had given his fury friends one hell of a wakeup call. 

Lydia sat up slower than the rest of them, only being jolted awake when Stiles had withdrawn his legs to avoid losing them. She looked up at Jackson slowly, and then around the room, taking in the mess around her with interest and a fair amount of horror.  
Stiles was beginning to think that he wasn’t the only one who couldn’t remember anything from the night before, which sucked, majorly.  
Everyone else blinked for a few seconds before Peter switched off the emitter and went back to reading his paper. From down the hall Scott, Isaac and Allison emerged from a bedroom looking a little shell shocked. Stiles didn’t need to be a werewolf to know what the trio had gotten up to last night. Their guilty, slightly embarrassed faces and ruffled, almost torn clothes gave everything away. Sure Chris Argent had been kind of ok with his daughter dating one werewolf, but sleeping with two at the same time? Oh how Stiles wanted to be there for that conversation.


	2. It's Not illegal... It's Frowned Upon

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The pack interrogate Peter.

Choosing to ignore the aftermath of his friends’ probable ménage à trois, Stiles instead focused on scanning the room for any possible clues as to what the hell was going on.   
And it had to be said. Werewolves knew how to party.  
There had to be at least a million dollars’ worth of cash lying around the room in scattered piles, as well as empty bottles of a brand of liquor Stiles wasn’t familiar with and large chunks of rubble. Stiles didn’t want to know where the rubble came from. To his nose the room smelt of alcohol and puke and something else that he couldn’t place. It was familiar though.  
Everyone appeared ok for the most part, although, he was sure they made an interesting sight. Seven hangover teenagers in ruffled, once decent looking, suits was probably common place in Vegas. But back in Beacon Hills, Stiles was certain they would have turned a few heads.  
He managed to get to his feet slowly, wobbling slightly with the effort of it. Was he still drunk? It would have made sense. From the amount they probably drank the night before he wouldn’t be surprised if he was drunk for the rest of the week.

When Derek was back online, he began to assess the situation so slowly that Stiles could almost see the gears turning in his head. A quick head count seemed to make the alpha uncomfortable. Apparently something was seriously wrong. Stiles could tell just by the way Derek’d glanced around after adding up the numbers in his head.  
Turning to Peter, Derek frowned, “Where’s Boyd?”  
Everyone’s heartbeat seemed to stop as seven pairs of eyes turned to franticly search the room. Had nobody noticed he wasn’t with them? Stiles saw the panicked looks on everyone’s faces and knew there wasn’t another heartbeat in the apartment- that Boyd really was missing. He tried to process that. Thinking of a thousand other reasons why Boyd wouldn’t be in the motel room with them but each one felt as unlikely as the last.  
Once again all eyes in the room turned to Peter, who was still sipping his coffee unfazed.  
The elder werewolf looked up at them, “I’m not sure where your friend is. I’m sure he’s fine though. Boyd always was a resilient one.”  
Erica’s growl made Stiles’s ears hurt. “How could you not know where he went? You were supposed to be watching us!”  
“Oh and what an interesting night of observation it was.” Peter smirked evilly (Stiles had a good eye for evil). “I don’t think I’ve had so much fun in years. We really should do this more often you know.”  
This time it was Derek who growled, “Tell us what happened, everything that happened.”

After half an hour of interrogation all they managed to get out of Peter was that; Erica had dyed her hair as part of a bet with Jackson, the money came from the string of casinos they’d hit (apparently a werewolf sense of smell makes you great at poker, because of emotions and stuff), Scott, Isaac and Allison had indeed slept together and, oh yeah, their alcohol had been laced with monkshood.  
“You spiked our drinks with wolfs bane?!” Scott yelped, “Couldn’t that have killed us? What the hell were you thinking?”  
Peter waved his hand, “Now, now I didn’t spike your drinks, I bought you alcohol laced with wolfs bane. Those are two very different things. And besides, the particular type of wolfs bane you ingested is virtually harmless. It merely allows weres such as ourselves to enjoy the full effects of the beverage. The only problem is recollecting your activities the morning after.”  
“So it helped us get drunk and memory loss is the side-effect.” Isaac summarised.  
“Correct.”  
Stiles tapped his arm restlessly, “So all this happened and you didn’t feel the need to step in and supervise because…?”  
“Because,” Peter began. His aura of patience was getting a little disturbing, it sounded like he could do this all day and nobody wanted that to happen, “about halfway through our eventful evening I met a lovely young beta from New York and accompanied her back to her room. What I know, I only know because you were all very happy in informing me upon my return, Mr Hale.”  
“Stilinski.” Stiles corrected him stiffly.  
That brought another smirk to Peter’s lips. “Oh no, I meant Hale.”  
Stiles followed the creepy wolf’s gaze down to the gold band on his left hand and his heart almost leaped out of his chest. How had he not noticed that before? Pushing down his rising panic he looked Peter dead in the eyes, “I want an annulment.”  
“I’m flattered, really. But it wasn’t me.” Peter snorted.

The room went still as everyone realised what he was implying. Stiles glanced down and, sure enough, there on Derek’s finger sat a matching gold band. Neither of them could meet the others eyes in the heartbeat it took for their situation to sink in. Not that it was as bad as Boyd going missing. Derek may have been dark and brooding and their alpha, but he wasn’t on the ‘I’d kill myself before I woke up in Vegas married to them’ list. And yes, Stiles actually had that list. It was pinned up next to his desk. Jackson was on it.  
“How is that even possible?” He whined, flailing his arms just for effect, “I’m pretty sure there’s this thing called parental permission, which I know I didn’t have by the way.”  
“And where did the rings come from?” Lydia added.  
“And Stiles’s new suit?” Scott pointed out  
Stiles hadn’t even noticed that one.  
Peter rolled his eyes. “Fortunately I was there for all of these events.” The elder werewolf admitted smugly, “The suit was bought by you, Lydia. After you decided that Stiles was an embarrassment to you all, you dragged him into the closest tailors. Which, might I say, was an accomplishment? I wasn’t even sure there were any fine tailors in Vegas.”  
Derek growled a warning.  
“The rings,” Peter continued a little more hastily, “The pair of you bought at a jeweller not too far from here. You didn’t want something cheap apparently. What was it you said? Oh yes, “only the best for my true love”. After that it was visit to the closest chapel and I may have played Peter Stilinski at some point, the dashing father who only wants the best for his son.”  
Stiles groaned. “This cannot be happening.”  
“As much as I love seeing Stilinski... sorry, Hale, in pain, aren’t we kind of getting away from the point slightly?” Jackson interrupted for the first time.

The brought back their bigger concern.

Finding Boyd.


	3. Who Let The Dogs Out

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The pack follow the clues...

When he’d calmed down, Stiles realised he’d seen this film.   
“We’re in The Hangover.” he yelped, flailing as he tried to get off the sofa but failed.  
Jackson rolled his eyes, “The dweeb’s started referring to his hangover as a separate entity, that’s it. I give up.”  
“No you idiot,” Erica said coming to Stiles’s aid, “The Hangover is a film. You know, bunch of guys go to Vegas; wake up with no memory of the night before. One of them is missing and one of them is married to a hooker and they have to figure out what happened. There were a couple of sequels I think.”  
Isaac perked up, “So how did they figure it out in the movie?”  
“Check your pockets!” Stiles ordered.  
The pocket check gave them five business cards, receipts for the alcohol and the rings and, in Scott’s case, a half used box of condoms that none of them would ever mention again.  
Turning over one of the cards, Stiles almost jumped for joy at the familiarity of the logo. “I think I remember going there after we got the wolfy-alcohol. I can’t remember for the life of me what they did but I have a feeling it’s where we went. Maybe they know where we went from there.”  
Derek took the card and looked at him doubtfully. “Stiles this is a tattoo parlour.”  
Everyone exchanged glances. Uh, oh.

After agreeing to split up, they piled into their two cars- one headed for the tattoo place and the other to the chapel where Derek and Stiles had tied the knot. Thankfully both vehicles had escaped damage the night before. Stiles couldn’t imagine what he would have done if his jeep had been totalled during their drunken escapades. The car was practically a member of his family… not that Derek’s Camaro wasn’t. But Stiles figured the alpha could afford to just buy himself another one.  
Derek hadn’t actually said that much since the big realisation and it was starting to worry Stiles a little bit. What were his thoughts on the situation? Was he angry? Homicidal? Fearful?   
Stiles figured this was probably going to be one of those things that they just tried to forget about. Yeah, it would kinda suck to already be married and divorced before the age of eighteen, but he’d get over it. Knowing that he’d married Derek Hale (for however short a time period) would be enough to feed his ego for the next few years at least.   
The fact that Derek had apparently referred to him as his ‘true love’ was the icing on the cake.

Their little group consisted of Scott, Jackson, Stiles and Derek, all crammed into the jeep. The others had taken the Camaro and were going to keep in touch via mobile. If something came up, they had to call the others straight away. It was the only way everyone would figure out what happened before it was time to go home, considering that Peter had already skipped on them.

The drive to the tattoo parlour was excruciating. Stiles was starting to feel like he was going to crawl out of his skin. He kept scratching his hands, legs, arms… anything he could get his nails on. There was also a knot forming in his stomach that was making it hard to breath. Stiles stretched out in his seat to try and relive it but nothing was working.  
Eventually Derek, who was driving as Stiles was technically still drunk, had had enough. “Will you pack it in? You’re distracting.”  
“I can’t help it,” Stiles glared at him through the rear view mirror- his call of shot gun had been ignored by Jackson even though it was his own damn jeep, “I can barely breath and this itching is driving me insane.”  
Scott snapped round almost comically fast, digging his nose into Stiles’s neck.  
“Dude!” Stiles yelped, bashing his head against the window. “What the hell are you doing?”  
His best friend pulled away slowly, looking almost bashful. “Sorry I was just checking to make sure you weren’t bitten. You were hanging round with werewolves last night after all.”  
Derek just shook his head without paying much attention, “We would have been able to smell it by now if he’d been turned.”  
“Oh, thank god.” Stiles sighed in relief.  
At least that was one thing they didn’t have to worry about. 

The uncomfortable feeling was still present though as they pulled up at their destination. He knew it was probably just anxiety, but it was still hard to shake and he had to almost hide behind Derek as the bell above the bell above the door chimed loudly.  
The tattoo place was actually pretty sweet. They had a wall that was completely covered in designs and another that showed happy customers flashing their purchases. Along the back there was a row of special chairs (although Stiles thought they looked like medieval torture devices), which could be hidden by a curtain.  
As they walked in the guy behind the counter smiled at them brightly.   
“Sobered up then have we?” he asked smugly, “You probably want to know what happened, am I right?”  
Derek nodded, “That sounds about right. How did you know?”  
The tattooist smiled, “I get quite a few drunk wolves in here and they all come back in the morning not knowing what the hell happened. You’d be surprised. But I have to be honest; I wasn’t expecting anyone in the night before the full moon. You’re brave sons-a-bitches I’ll tell you that.”  
Stiles gulped audibly, he didn’t like the sound of that. “What do you mean?”  
“Hunters.” The guy said simply. “We’ve got three families in the city and they don’t give a crap about codes. Being out on the full moon is a death wish for any supernatural creature, so if I was you I’d be out of town by nightfall.”  
Jackson sighed, “Well that’s just great. We’ve got like… five hours to find Boyd and get out of town before we get shot or cut in half, maybe both. And on top of that one of us probably has a tattoo somewhere...”  
“I believe that’s you young man.”  
Jackson looked horrified, his eyes instantly going to the wall to search for himself.   
The tattooist smirked, “I haven’t put your picture up yet, I didn’t think it would be appropriate.”  
“What’s that supposed to mean?” Jackson asked, colour draining from his face as he began checking his body for the tattoo.  
From somewhere a laptop was produced and, there on the screen, was a picture of a scrotum. Jackson’s scrotum to be precise.   
Scott and Stiles broke down laughing as they noticed their names were tattooed in thick black letters above each testicle. Both boys were doubled over by the time Jackson had realised what the picture meant.  
“Stop laughing!” He roared, red faced and embarrassed.  
That only made them laugh louder.  
“Well,” Stiles gasped, “you have always referred to us as testicles one and two.”  
“I’m going to kill both of you.”  
The tattooist held up a hand when he saw Jackson's eyes flash blue, “There will be no killing in my shop and, besides, if it makes you feel any better you weren’t the only one to get inked up last night. Your friend also got one.”  
Their eyes returned to the screen as the next picture greeted them. This one was maybe a bit easier to look at. Maybe that’s because it was of Erica’s breasts. Across them was tattooed ‘who let the dogs out’, with ‘probably Stiles’ done in scribbled text underneath.

Erica was going to kill them all when she found out.


	4. On The Roof

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Stiles gets an idea.

Leaving the store with the information that, from the shop, they had apparently gone to buy Erica’s hair dye (and there was a funny story behind that too), the four of them slowly climbed back into the jeep.  
According to the story, when Jackson was getting his tattoo he’d passed out. The passing out had led to Erica calling him a wimp, even after her own inking, and in the end she’d been made to change her hair colour as punishment.  
Derek pulled out his phone to update the others, but before he could dial anything it began to ring.  
“Hello?” he answered, putting the phone on loudspeaker so Stiles could hear too.  
Isaac’s voice echoed down the line, “We might have a bit of a problem…”  
“Let me guess,” Stiles asked cheerfully, “Hunters on our asses? Yeah we know that already.”  
There was silence for the other end for a second before Allison came on the phone, “We also found out that when we left the chapel after your, uh… marriage, we had company.”  
Derek’s frown deepened, “What kind of company?”  
“To wolves from New Orleans, who apparently were boasting about being able to shift fully? I don’t have full details because the CCTV’s got bad audio, but they seemed to be talking to Boyd about his ‘potential’. Do you know what that means? We’ve got a couple of leads to follow up so we’ll call you back after that. Did you guys find anything?”  
Derek informed them of Jackson’s predicament, much to Stiles’s and Scott’s amusement, and also told them about Erica's tattoo. They all heard her growl loud and clear down the line.  
Scott shook his head even though they couldn’t see him. “We don’t have anything else to follow up on. You guys have any ideas where we should go next?”  
This time Lydia was the one to answer. “We managed to find out that the last casino we went to, strangely enough it’s not one on the strip. It’s a little family run establishment on the edge of town. Maybe you guys can check that out while we follow up a lead on our friends?”  
Jackson nodded, “We’re on it.”

By the time they were back in the jeep and on their way again the crawling of his skin and the tightness in Stiles’s chest had returned with a vengeance. He’d been able to block it out when they’d been talking to the owner of the tattoo place but now there were no distractions. Everything felt hyper real, like he’d been in a bubble that had just been popped. The seat under him felt strange, the air was too hot, his lemon air freshener was too strong. What the hell was wrong with him?  
He took a deep breath but for some reason couldn’t bring in enough air. Damn it, he wasn’t going to have a panic attack in a car full of werewolves. He was pretty sure they had bigger things to worry about other than him.  
Stiles was flung forward as the brakes were slammed on. If Scott hadn’t caught him, he would have crushed Jackson. Not that that was a bad thing. Flat Jackson would have been an awesome Jackson, but Stiles didn’t feel like getting brain damage to achieve that.  
“Dude,” Scott said, interrupting his thoughts, “you’re as much a priority as any of us. So don’t you dare think otherwise, you got that? You’re pack and that’s not going to change.”  
Stiles blinked at his best friend for a second before understanding.  
He’d just said all of that out loud. Shit.  
Derek was watching him in the mirror. Apparently the alpha did care about his safety after all, huh, who’d have thought?

Their emotional pep-talk was cut short though when another car slammed into the side of the jeep. 

The rival car’s bumper was fiberglass so it didn’t stand a chance against the steel Jeep, but apparently that wasn’t the point of the crash.  
Two figures stepped out of the mangled wreckage of their car and approached them slowly. Even from that distance, they seemed to notice that everyone in the car was unconscious apart from Stiles- and that was only because Scott had heard the approaching car and flung himself over his best friend like the self-sacrificing idiot he was.  
Great, Stiles thought to himself hazily when he saw their eyes flash gold, more werewolves.

The last thing his brain registered was an arrow lodging it’s self in one of their necks before he was coming round in the villa.

Allison and Erica were watching over him protectively as he woke up slowly. The first thing his eyes landed on was a nasty cut above the hunter’s left eye. Had they been in a fight? Had they… Oh, that explained the arrow.  
“What the hell happened to you guys? I thought we were the ones having all the fun.” he croaked.  
Allison shook her head, “The two wolves from New Orleans befriended Boyd last night. When he refused to go back with them and join their pack, they took that as an insult. After they crashed into your car they carved a swirl into your bumper, starting a feud. If we hadn’t shown up in time they would have taken you, the only turn-able human, as payment.”  
He frowned, “I suppose I owe you guys a thank you then, maybe a Star Wars marathon too?”  
“Although a Star Wars night would be cool, I actually enjoyed ripping one of them apart so there’s no thank you needed there.” Erica half purred.  
Stiles sat upright and was instantly aware that, where dizziness should have been, there was only a slight throbbing in his head. That was odd.   
“So,” he asked hopefully, still not sure if that was how he was supposed to feel, “one of them is dead?”  
“That’s what I said genius.” 

Isaac chose that moment to knock on the door. He stuck his head round anyway though so there wasn’t much point. “Derek asked me to bring you guys into the living room. We’re having a ‘pack meeting’.”

When everyone was sitting in a rough circle around an enormous pile of cash, which had been sorted and neatly stacked so it seemed a lot less than it had the night before, they began. Lydia started by informing them that the cash came to grand total of two and a half million, which they should probably just split equally because otherwise they’d just rip each other’s throats out over it.   
Then Allison took centre stage and presented all of their findings so far. While the other team was interrogating the surviving beta, they’d discovered that Boyd had originally gone with the pair, but then changed his mind and tried to return to the pack. That was when he’d gone missing and nobody had seen him since.  
It was all a lot to take in. They only had two hours left before sunset and Stiles was pretty sure he didn’t want to be in Vegas when the sun went down. Hunters without a code usually tended to treat human members of packs worse than actual werewolves.  
Much to his horror, Stiles realised that he’d actually managed to scoot closer to Derek on the sofa they were sitting on without either of them noticing. He was pressed right up against the wolf’s side with his head practically resting on Derek’s shoulder like it was the most natural thing in the world.  
The rest of the pack (and Stiles himself come to think of it) didn’t seem to find it that natural though, and were reacting as such. Meaning that Scott was giving him his round eyed, confused puppy look of shock, while Erica, Allison and Lydia exchanged strange glances that only females (and sometimes Isaac) could decipher.  
Stiles pulled away awkwardly and Derek seemed to notice the position they’d been in. The alpha’s eyes narrowed and flashed red as he studied Stiles questioningly.  
For the first time in his life Stiles almost jumped off of the couch when Derek flashed his eyes. There was something terrifying about the action that made his heart stop and his breath catch in his throat. What the hell was wrong with him? Derek wasn’t usually that scary… In the end he decided to put it down to the fact that he’d been practically molesting the guy not a second before and was feeling guilty.  
“The hell was that Stiles?” Scott interrupted; the confusion was clear in his friend’s tone.  
Isaac nodded in agreement from Scott’s side. Apparently their threesome had only made them stronger friends. Damn this was fucked up. “I agree. I mean, I know you’re married but since when do you cuddle Derek?”  
Jackson joined in, “And since when does Derek let you cuddle him?”  
“Uh,” Stiles didn’t know what to say. Derek was giving him strange look and he knew they could all smell his embarrassment, hell, he could practically smell it himself and he was human.

That’s when it hit him.

It all fell into place.

He was human.

They were wolves.

They were WOLVES… or at least they had the potential to be. 

Boyd had the ‘potential’ to be.

“I know where Boyd is!” he yelped, jumping off of the couch and flailing his arms around in the classical Stilinski manoeuvre.  
The whole room froze.  
“Come on!” He encouraged when nobody moved, “I’ll explain on the way.”


	5. You Know You're Gonna Win

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> It was obvious really.

When they got outside, they jumped into their cars and sped away- thankfully the jeep hadn’t suffered that much damage and whatever damage there was they could afford to repair- Jackson instantly put the phone on loud speaker so they could all hear Stiles’s big announcement.  
Stiles opened maps on his phone and gave Derek the directions to Boyd. When he’d done that he began. “So you know when you were saying how those two wolves had seen ‘potential’ in Boyd? Well, I’ll bet you anything that they meant that he could probably turn into an actual wolf. And if they knew he could, they would have tried to show him right? Well what if he was a wolf when he left them?”  
Derek thought about that for a second. “It’s possible, but what are you getting at Stiles?”  
“Think about it guys!” Stiles whined, “If he was wolf than he wouldn’t have been able to get past the lobby and into our room.”  
From down the line Stiles could hear the exact moment Lydia caught his train of thought. “He would have been stuck outside,” she gasped, “stuck outside as a wolf.”  
Stiles smiled, “I don’t know about you guys, but I’m pretty sure the police around here probably wouldn’t be able to tell a wolf from maybe a large German Shepard.”  
“So you’re telling us that he’s probably at the pound?” Scott groaned, “After all we’ve been through today, that’s fucked up man.”  
“Oh, we are so watching The Hangover when we get back.” Stiles snorted.

The pound was a small building on the edge of the city. Isaac and the others were instantly able to pick up Boyd’s scent, so they knew they were in the right place.  
“Um, guys,” Stiles suddenly asked, most of his confidence abandoning him, “what would Boyd even look like as a wolf? I’m pretty sure if we go in there asking for a dog we can’t even describe, it’s gonna look a little weird. I don’t think we’d make it past the front desk.”  
Derek sighed when everyone turned to him, “I’ve got this.”  
Inside it smelt of animals but Stiles knew that, even for a pound, the aroma was maybe a little strong. Did they even clean that place? If the animal clinic back in Beacon Hills smelt like that it would have been shut down.  
“You guys smell that?” he asked wrinkling his nose.  
Allison looked at him in confusion, “What the hell are you talking about Stiles?”  
“It smells of…”  
He was interrupted as a kid about their age wandered out of the back and spotted their group. Giving them a little wave the guy smiled thinly- it was the look of a teenager who wasn’t paid enough to deal with Vegas. “So what can I do for you guys?”  
Derek stepped forward, “We’ve lost out dog and we were told he was here.”  
The guy nodded, “What does he look like?”  
“He’s an Alsatian cross-breed, dark brown, almost black, and responds to the name Boyd?”  
After a second’s thought the kid nodded, “We did have a dog like that come in last night, I don’t know if that’s his name but we can see can’t we?”  
They all followed the guy round the back and… sure enough, there was Boyd sitting in a cage looking incredibly bored. He seemed to perk up when he saw them though, barking and waging his tail excitedly.  
“Hey Boyd!” Lydia cried surprisingly, running up to the cage and sticking her fingers through the mesh so he could lick them, “Who’s a bad dog? Running off like that is very bad. You could have been hurt.”  
Their over the top display was so convincing that the guy didn’t even think twice about pulling out his keys and unlocking the cage.


	6. One Man Wolf Pack

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> It's a long way home? i don't know. these summaries are getting hard. i guess the rest of the fic is kinda dealing the the aftermath now... a new werewolf and evil hunters!

When they had everything packed and were on the move, the sun was already setting so they wasted no time speeding away from the city. After all they’d been through Stiles had no intention of getting caught by hunters, so reaching the city limits felt like a weight had just been lifted off of his shoulders.  
Scott called his mom just after to tell her that they were on their way home and that everyone apart from Stiles, Lydia and Allison was going to be stopping at Derek’s loft that night. It was the full moon after all, and after all the stress they’d been through that day, they knew it was going to be a rough one.  
Thankfully, this time his call for shotgun hadn’t been ignored and Stiles was finally sitting up front. Yes he was sitting next to Derek, his short-term husband, but it was worth it.

Well, it was for a couple of hours anyway.

Not long after leaving Vegas Stiles started to feel strange again. Only in this case it was different, more intense. His heart was thundering in his chest and his vision was fading in and out of ultra-sharp and I-can’t-see-anything-blurry. Everything was too close, he felt boxed in. He needed space.  
Gasping for air we waved his hand franticly, “Stop the car!”  
As ordered the car ground to a halt. Stiles could vaguely hear his name being called but it sounded weird, like it was coming from the end of a very long tunnel and incredibly close at the same time. Everything felt like it was burning, his skin felt like it was splitting at the seams and his mouth tasted like copper, like blood.  
Scrambling for the door handle he collapse into the dirt outside. The night was cold and it felt wonderful but he couldn’t concentrate on that. He opened his eyes and looked up at… the full moon.   
Oh shit.  
“Derek!” he whimpered, slamming his eyes shut and grabbing at air until the feel of Derek’s shirt hit his fingertips. He could feel both the smoothness and the roughness of the cotton. “Help me.”  
The desperation of Stiles’s plea made the alpha hug him closer. Stiles wrapped his fingers round Derek’s back and dug his nose into his neck but pushed away almost instantly. No he couldn’t do that. He couldn’t. He was human.  
In the distance he heard the others calling his name again and this time he recognised Lydia and Allison’s voices in the crowd, but he didn’t care, couldn’t care. He was in too much pain to do much other than clutch hold of Derek- at a reasonable distance of course.  
What the hell was happening to him? He’d kept asking himself that through the night but now he wanted to scream it to the heavens.  
Yes, he’d kind of already figured it out. But that wasn’t the point.  
“Stiles, what’s wrong?” he heard Derek ask, the fear and concern in the alpha’s voice was evident.  
Seriously, couldn’t they smell it on him? Why was he always the one to work shit out?  
They’d know soon enough though.

Opening his eyes, Stiles stared at Derek for a moment, trying to convey what he knew was happening. It must have worked because he heard the man above him let out a growl.  
“Damn it,” Derek muttered pressing his nose into Stiles’s neck to breath in his scent, only just picking up on what Stiles had been suspecting all along. Obviously his alpha instincts kicked in because Derek was suddenly running a soothing hand through his hair, trying to pull Stiles face away from the full moon and into his chest. “It’s going to be ok. We’ve got you. It’ll be over soon.”  
Another wave of pain though had him twisting in his alpha’s arms. His finger nails… no… claws dug into his own palms as he fought, making them bleed. He couldn’t do it. He had to escape what was happening to him. He was human. That was his thing. He was human.  
And then suddenly he was being held down while he fought.   
People were holding him down.   
Plural.

He blinked to find Scott and Isaac and Erica pinning him to the floor, using their combined weight to keep him still. But it wasn’t the fact that they were there that startled him. Oh no, it was actually kind of comforting to know that he wasn’t alone. If he’d done this alone, he didn’t think he would have survived.  
It was the fact that he could smell them that was causing his heart to thunder. Stiles could smell their fear and confusion and Scott’s worry. He could smell the rest who were standing at a distance. Hell, he could even smell the rabbit that hopped about not a few hundred metres to his left.  
And Derek, wow, Derek was giving off a flurry of emotions. There was guilt and anger and more guilt and some concern and… it was Derek. Stiles didn’t really know what he was expecting really. The guy probably contained more guilt than was humanly, or werewolfly possible- and Stiles was making it worse by freaking out.

Although, on second thought, Stiles was more than entitled to freak out. He was turning into a frickin werewolf for crying out loud. After so long of saying he didn’t want the bite, actually getting it without his knowing was a little disorientating.  
He took a deep breath trying to focus on those around him and get his bearings. Both Scott and Isaac had been happy enough to share the story of their first transformations and now Stiles understood. He knew he needed an anchor. Yes he’d calmed down some since he’d started changing, so much so that the others had loosened their gip slightly, but that didn’t mean he couldn’t feel the full moon’s pull. He was going to lose control again if he didn’t find one soon.  
Without thinking he reached out, managing to pull his arm free of Isaac and thrust it back. Derek’s knee was still right behind him, so he held onto the leg of his alpha’s jeans and screwed his eyes shut, trying to focus on slowing his heartbeat.   
His breathing slowly turned from frantic, pained panting into more stable breaths. But it took him all of about a minute to realise that the heartbeat he’s been concentrating on wasn’t his. It was Derek’s. Damn it.  
Stiles needed to find something more concrete.  
He opened his eyes and stared at the moon as he concentrated but nothing came to mind. Of course the obvious one would have been his dad, but somehow that seemed wrong. Still clutching at Derek’s jeans he frowned. What the hell was he supposed to use as an anchor? He wasn’t going to use anger like Derek. He didn’t have a girlfriend like Scott or Jackson. Erica and Boyd used each other… and he didn’t even want to think about what Peter’s could be.  
It was starting to look like his lack of love life was actually a problem. Maybe he should have gotten out more? Not to Vegas obviously, but to Jungle maybe? He’d already had a husband so he figured a boyfriend wouldn’t bother him too much…


	7. Tigers Love Pepper

“Stiles?” Scott asked cautiously.  
The others had actually stopped holding him now which was surprising. Stiles felt the tingling of the shift as his brow returned to normal. When had his face changed? He wasn’t sure.  
Sitting up he found himself perfectly calm, yes he could still feel the itching of the moon beneath his skin, but it was manageable now. Around him the others were watching with slack jawed expressions.   
Except Allison that is. She was looking at him as if she was trying to figure out which way he was going to flee and whether or not she should put a bullet in him.   
It was nice to see that she had such faith in him.  
Everyone had slipped into silence as they waited for him to reply. Even in the dim light Stiles could see a few of them shift from one foot to the other, he could hear the rustling of fabric as they moved, smell their unease and confusion… damn, his life had just got a lot more complicated.   
Now he had to explain two things to his dad. One was probably going to go down smoother than the other, although he wasn’t quite sure which.   
Stiles couldn’t decide which one was going to freak his dad out more, ‘hi dad, I went to Vegas instead of that camping trip we told you we were going on, and now I’m married to that murder suspect you pulled in a couple of years ago’ or ‘hi dad, I’m a werewolf’.   
It was probably the first one to be perfectly honest. They’d let the sheriff in on the supernatural a month prier, and since then Stile’s dad had been looking at him like he was expecting him to grow fangs or something. At least now he actually could.  
Taking another look at the people around him, Stiles took a deep breath to steady himself. “Well,” he muttered, “that was unexpected.”

Even with his new werewolf senses, Stiles didn’t anticipate it when Scott tackled him to the ground again. Not wanting to be out done he pushed back and soon they were shrieking like children. At some point Isaac had joined in but neither of them seemed to notice. They rolled around in the dirt until all three of them were panting hard.  
“Dude,” his best friend laughed, “you totally scared us. We thought you were having a fit or something.”  
Isaac nodded from where Stiles had him pinned (which was an accomplishment in Stiles’s mind), “Yeah, your heartbeat just shot up and then you kinda started flailing in the front seat. When you got out and flopped out and rolled around on the ground, I think Derek almost had an aneurism.”  
The three of them turned to stare at Derek who was crouching just to their left in case their spontaneous play fight got out of hand.   
His alpha just shrugged, turning his head to watch as Jackson approached them.   
Jackson stopped short, glaring suspiciously at Stiles, “Is he going to be ok in a car? I don’t want to be in a closed space with a guy who can’t control his shift…”  
Derek paused for a second, “Stiles’s anchored so he should be fine. I’ll still sit with him the back just in case though. Jackson,” he threw him the keys, “you’re driving.”  
“You know what, I am switching cars. Get one of the other losers to do it.”  
The growl that came out of Derek sent shivers down Stiles’s spine. His alpha stood abruptly and stalked over, grabbing the front of Jackson’s shirt to pull him forward. “You will do as I say. After what we’ve been through today, I will not be tolerating any disobedience from any of you.”

Though they knew it wasn’t really directed at them, everyone nodded in unison. Even Stiles felt compelled to bob his head at the order, which as wrong on so many levels because nobody ever made Stiles do anything. He didn’t take orders well and knowing that Derek now had the power to make him do anything was a little unnerving. Hell, it wasn’t just unnerving. It was terrifying.

Suddenly Stiles found himself pinned to the floor again, this time by Derek. He’d been pulled off Isaac and thrown a few feet in the air before being caught and shoved into the dry dirt. His mouth felt odd, too full. He could make out the sharp points of his fangs against his bottoms lip.   
Damn, his control was slipping. He needed to focus. Find his anchor- whatever the hell that was. Stiles hadn’t quite figured the whole anchor thing out yet.  
Above him Derek flashed his eyes, trying to force Stiles to submit, but in the end it only made things worse.   
Stiles struggled to get a lock on his emotions but failed. He didn’t want to be controlled. Having somebody dictate his every move was literally his worst nightmare. There was nothing Stiles feared more than having someone else inside his head, making decisions for him. Why couldn’t Derek see that?  
Apparently Derek did see that though because after a few painful seconds his eyes returned to their usual green and his features smoothed back to human. “Stiles I need you to calm down.”  
It wasn’t an order, it was a statement. That was what made all the difference.  
Within minutes Stiles felt calm enough to shift his features back too.   
“I’m sorry.” he said, keeping his eyes off to the side.  
Derek shook his head, “There’s nothing to be sorry for. It can take a while to get used to.”  
“I don’t want to get used to it.”  
“Then you have a choice to make, but for now let’s just get on the move again. I want to be home before morning.” his alpha huffed, pushing himself off of the ground and stomping off in the direction of the jeep.


	8. I'm A Steel Trap

The rest of the ride back to Beacon Hills was tense. Derek sat in the back with Stiles while Jackson and Scott sat in the front, watching them in the rear-view mirror (Isaac had decided to squeeze into the other car). If anyone were to look in on them they’d have said that nothing was amiss, but Stiles could hear the jump of Scott’s heart every time they hit a speed bump or pot-hole and scent the stress pouring off of everyone in waves.  
Damn, maybe werewolf senses weren’t the best thing to focus on when you’re trying to keep calm, Stiles thought to himself as he eyed the others. He’d managed to subtly (there was nothing subtle about it) move so that he was resting his head on Derek’s shoulder. He may not have been fully ready to accept that he had an alpha yet, someone who could boss him around, but that didn’t mean the scent didn’t calm him.  
And, to be fair, Derek did actually belong to him for the time being.   
Stiles was still trying to get over that- not that he really wanted to. It might have been the new wolfy-possessive side of his brain but, now that he’d thought about it Derek was a nice guy (the fact that he was hot had nothing to do with it, nothing at all) who deserved nice things and Stiles, for some reason, now felt responsible for making sure those nice things happened.  
Something inside him howled distastefully at the prospect of getting divorced. Stiles figured that that was the ‘wolf’ everyone was always talking about.   
He didn’t like it.  
Yes the wolf was just an extension of his current personality, but that didn’t make it feel any less strange. And according to the others it was going to be especially active that night as it was his first full moon... which was just great.

Stiles climbed out of the jeep when they pulled up at the loft. He had informed his dad that he was going to be staying the night (no matter how much his father had argued that that was a bad idea on a full moon), so that was taken care of. All he had to worry about now was finishing tidying up the mess from the night before and putting this all behind them. He wasn’t looking forward to it, but it wasn’t just his decision and Derek wasn’t exactly being forthcoming with the honeymoon joy, so Stiles figured that was their only course of action.  
As they trudged up the stairs to the apartment, another thought came to Stiles though.  
He looked at the others around him and frowned, “Hey guys?”  
Jackson sighed, “What Stiles?”  
“Where did the rubble in the villa come from?” he asked slowly, “I mean, we didn’t actually do any damage to the apartment, and it didn’t suddenly appear out of nowhere.”  
Everyone glanced over their shoulders at him.  
Scott nodded, “That is a very good question actually. We should ask Peter.”  
“Where is Peter anyway? Did he even make it out of Vegas?” Stiles waved his hands when he realised that the elder werewolf hadn’t come back with them.  
Derek shook his head. “He probably left before we did.”  
“I bet the hunters have him by how if he didn’t.” Erica chimed in cheerfully, as if the thought of Peter getting run down by hunters was her version of a happy ending. 

Beside them Boyd trotted silently up the steps (not that he could have spoken anyway- being in wolf form kinda took away that ability). Nobody was quite sure how they were going to get him to change back. Even Derek was as clueless as the rest of them. Apparently his mother hadn’t been too forthcoming with the details of a full shift, which sucked.  
Without Peter, they had to figure it out all on their own.

To everyone’s surprise the door of the loft was open when they reached it. Nobody knew quite what to do as they stood gaping at the entrance. It was pretty obvious that the door hadn’t been forced, so whoever was inside had to have a key.   
And there was someone inside.   
Three of them to be precise, Stiles could hear their hearts beating from where he was on the landing.  
He scrunched up his nose at the unfamiliar scents. Two were definitely human and smelt strongly of wolfs bane that burned his nose, but he couldn’t even make out the last one’s species, their scent was just a concentrated blend of death and rot that made him want to gag.  
Stiles felt his wolf’s hackles start to rise at the intruders. Down boy, he silently thought to himself, there was room for growling and snarling later. Well, Stiles assumed there would be. Werewolves were always growling something at each other.  
Derek shushed them, even though they weren’t saying anything, and motioned for them to retreat. Apparently getting away from the scary intruders was the safest course of action and Stiles was 100% ok with that. His alpha didn’t have anything worth stealing anyway.  
The group turned and slowly started to quietly descend the stairs- even if being completely silent was almost useless. Human or otherwise, the intruders defiantly would have heard them coming up the stairs. They were all so tired that no one had heard or smelt anything unusual until they were right at the front door.  
Stiles mentally kicked himself. Yes he was a newly turned beta, but that didn’t mean he shouldn’t have been more vigilant, especially after what’d just happened. They were all running on fumes and dissipating adrenalin. If the hunters had followed and somehow managed to overtake them, than they were all dead. Allison had driven Lydia home and was probably sound asleep at that moment so there was no backup and no one to cover their backs in the event of an ambush.

Which is precisely what happened.

As they reached the bottom of the stairs, Stiles heard the tell-tale sound of a pin being pulled and suddenly he was breathing in a thick green smoke. Some form of wolf’s bane perhaps but he didn’t have time to process that before he was pistol whipped into unconsciousness.


	9. That's Not Our Friend

Stiles’s head hurt. It wasn’t the same dull ach he’d woken up to that morning but it was scarily close and he was seriously staring to detest the smell of monkshood. It almost certainly wasn’t healthy for any werewolf to ingest the amounts of wolf’s bane (whatever strain) in such a short period of time.  
He was pretty sure, now that he thought about it, that that was what had stalled the change in his scent. Being bitten whilst under the influence of werewolf-liquor had probably slowed the spread of the lycanthropy in in his blood until he’d been in direct contact with the full moon, triggering his transformation.  
It sucked. It really did. But in that moment Stiles realised he had bigger problems to worry about.  
He was blindfolded and tied to a chair, his wrists and ankles bound with thin rope that could easily be broken if he wanted out. Around him he could hear the sounds of laboured breathing echoing off of closely packed walls. The room had to have been small, only a handful of metres across for the echoes to have been that intense.  
The rattle of chains, the faint hum of electricity and moans of the pack, told Stiles that he was the only one bound so loosely. Whoever took them most likely didn’t know that he was one of them. The change was so new that their captors hadn’t picked up on it.  
He was relieved that they at least had that in their favour, if only for a little while.

Without warning the door to their room (cell?) clanged open and Stiles could make out four sets of footsteps enter, each had its own unique rhythm. He could recognise two of the scents as the ones from the apartment, but the others were still new and that frightened him. He had no clue how many of them there were to fight off or how heavily armed they were.  
Stiles panicked when he felt his calm beginning to dissolve (not that he’d been very calm in the first place, but still). His control was steadily slipping through his fingers and if he didn’t get a grip on it he was going to give himself away.  
Struggling he managed to remember the few lessons on anchors Derek had given him a few months ago, back when the whole pack had once made it their mission to get him to change his mind on the bite- it hadn’t worked, but he still had the lessons. He tried to think of Derek’s exact words. What was it the alpha had said? Something about finding an anchor and concentrating on it, letting it calm them.  
But Stiles had a tiny little problem.  
He didn’t even know who or what his anchor was. 

Across the room, a voice broke the silence, pulling him out of his thoughts and back to the real word. He was surprised to find that he’d managed to calm down considerably in that short stretch of time, even if he didn’t know how he’d done it.  
“You must all be wondering why you’re here?” The voice (male with a deep Texan accent) asked them roughly. “Although, personally, I don’t think you dogs do much thinking. It’s all blood and hunting and more blood.”  
“You asshole, let us go!” Jackson spat from somewhere to Stiles’s left.  
There was a heavy thud and a grunt as something metallic collided with skin.  
“Did I tell you, you could speak?” The hunter snapped. “No, I did not. Now listen very carefully, I’m only going to ask this once. Where’s that mutt you things call Paula?”  
“Who?” Scott groaned from where he was chained.  
Stiles was suddenly very glad he was blindfolded because he would have lost it if he’d seen his best friend chained up and electrocuted.   
The hunter, who he presumed was the leader, spoke again. This time to Stiles’s right. The four of them seemed to be walking round the room in a clockwise direction. “P-a-u-l-a, that dirty she-wolf that was hanging around your pack last night?”  
“We don’t remember last night.” Isaac protested; gaining a thump from whatever the hunter was using to hit people with.  
“You think I didn’t know you’d say that?” the voice was on the move, always on the move, but Stiles was finally getting the hang of figuring out where in the room the guy was standing. Following heartbeats and footsteps was easy once you knew who was who. “But you have to know something, and by the time we’re done with you, you’ll be begging to tell us everything you’ve ever seen or done.”  
Across the tiny cell Erica piped up, “You can torture us all you like but we can’t tell you anything. We don’t know any Paula, we’ve never even heard of her.”  
The hunter growled, or at least the human version of one anyway. “Oh, we’re not going to torture you. We’re going to torture your mutt-wannabe.”  
Mutt-wannabe… oh, they meant Stiles. 

Stiles felt himself tense when he realised what the hunter meant. Torturing him would definitely bring out the wolf and then they’d lose their only advantage.   
He had to think quickly.  
Thankfully though, the hunters seemed to be as dim-witted as they were bigoted. “We’ll let you think it over for a while- leave you to fry. Those electrical pads have got to be sore by now. You want them off; all you have to do is spill.” The leader laughed, already making his way to the door.  
Erica struggled against her restraints, “You’re only going to kill us anyway.”  
“Yes, but your human doesn’t have to die.”

He knew that breaking the chair was how hunters escaped and had practiced a couple of times in the past, so making it look just right was easy as pie. As soon as he heard the footsteps retreating down the corridor outside their cell, Stiles tipped his chair back and smashed it. Once his hands were free he ripped off his blind fold and surveyed the room.  
Their cell was actually more of a tiny dungeon, with enough chains to hold twice as many wolves and an electrical box every foot or so along the wall. The only light in the room was being supplied by a flickering bulb that dangled precariously from the ceiling.  
His friends were in a sorry state.  
Each wolf (apart from Boyd, who had his own personal cage) hung from their own separate chain, swinging slowly as they fought the electricity that stopped them from changing. A couple had extra precautions; Jackson had an extra rope snaking around his legs and Derek had actually been gagged- which explained the silence from their alpha during the questioning. If Stiles hadn’t been is such a panicked state he might have made a remark about that, but he had other things to take care of. Like the fact that they were going to find a way out it had to be before the boss came back so he began to make a plan in his head…

His phone buzzed in his pocket and startled him.

Stiles was surprised they hadn’t taken it. Hell, he was downright amazed that it had any kind of signal.  
Around the edges of the room the others watched him. Scott doubled his wriggling- gasping as he almost dislocated his shoulder trying to escape his manacles. “Don’t just stand there, do something!”  
Stiles nodded at his best friend’s words, “Right on it.”


	10. We Fucked Up

“Dad, we fucked up.”  
There was a pause down the light before his dad finally sighed, “That’s not funny Stiles. You don’t get to come back from Vegas and just say things like that. We watched The Hangover together remember?”  
How did his dad know they’d gone to Vegas? Melissa, that traitor! Normally Stiles would have called her or Lydia with something like this, but both of their numbers were on his old (broken, crushed during a puppy pile) phone and he hadn’t gotten round to transferring them over yet. That meant that Chris and Allison were also out of the picture.  
Stiles sighed back down the line at his father’s disappointed voice. He’d have one hell of a mess to clean up, on top of everything else, when he got home but right then he didn’t have time to beat around the bush with his explanation.  
“No dad, I mean we really fucked up. We’re trapped by hunters in some dungeon somewhere. I need to you to call both Allison and her dad and tell them what’s happened. Listen this is going to sound crazy but…” Stiles managed to give his dad a brief description of what was currently happening and then quickly gave an overview of their other recent activities, excluding the marriage and the whole werewolf situation of course, before he heard the sound of footsteps approaching from down the hall, “got to go dad, love you.”  
“Wait, Stiles, I…”

Stiles snapped his phone shut with no small amount of guilt and slipped it back into his pocket quickly. He looked around one last time at the others before the door opened and a bulky man in a Stetson waltzed in along with three other dudes in black combat suits. He recognised their scents as the same ones from their earlier interrogation.  
The leader paused when he spotted Stiles standing over the ruined remains of the chair and smiled cruelly, flashing his yellowed teeth. “Enjoy your phone call?”  
Stiles gulped. Ok, that wasn’t a good sign.  
“Oh, don’t look so put out, boy. We knew you’d escape and try to contact your friends. They’re probably on their way here right now aren’t they, the other humans? If you can even call yourselves that.” The guy in the Stetson spat to the side and his men smirked, “You mutt-wannabes barely have any humanity left in you most of the time, you’re no better than your wolves. What did they tell you to get you to serve them? That they’d turn you? That you’d be part of the pack?”  
Stiles bit his tongue and stayed silent. He knew very well the kind of remarks he’d let fly if he opened his mouth, and that wouldn’t help anyone. It was better to stay silent and wait- hope- to be rescued from those psychos.  
The guy in the Stetson, however, seemed to have other plans. “You know what?” he asked pulling a handgun from its holster at his hip, “You’ve got about three seconds to tell me where Paula is before I shoot out a knee cap.”  
Jumping back into a vaguely defensive position, Stiles waved his hands, “We don’t know any wolf named Paula. You’ve got the wrong group of teenagers.”  
“No,” Stetson grinned, “I know you know where the New Yorker is, we tracked your rotting corpse of a pack member back to that ghost-town you call Beacon Hills and he, how should I put it? Sang like a canary? Seems he was oh-so-happy to talk when we promised we’d get rid of your alpha there… something about becoming an alpha again?”  
Derek’s growl was muffled by his gag, but Stiles could tell his alpha was pissed. Yeah, they were going to have to have a serious conversation with Peter if they got out of this.  
Unshaken by Derek’s threat, the leader turned back to Stiles, “one.”  
Stiles kept retreating backwards, holding his arms up, “Seriously, dude, I have no clue who you’re talking about.”  
“He doesn’t know anything!” Scott yelled.  
“Shoot me instead!” Jackson growled (which Stiles was definitely going to have to call him out on later).  
“Two.”  
Stiles gulped and took a chance, “Ok! She went back to New York. She said something about her alpha being mad or something…”  
“Lie.” Damn it.   
Glancing over the other three hunters, he realised he had no other choice, they were about to lose the one advantage they had.

It was either loose it or use it.

Lunging sharply forward Stiles felt his brow shift as his wolf took over.   
“Three.” He finished for Stetson, his claws raking across the leader’s chest.  
Spinning he found himself face to face with another hunter, dodging that pistol was easy enough, but Stiles almost tripped and flailed as the third stuck his foot out. God damn it, even as a werewolf he was just as unbalanced on his feet. Only his luck could be that bad.  
In the distance Stiles could hear the others shouting encouragement, Derek growling furiously, Boyd whining from his cage… but just then he caught the sharp sound of electricity close by. The hairs on his arms stood up a second before he realised what was going to happen.

Stiles woke up to his name being called. He shuddered, struggling to draw in a breath while hanging from his wrists. The electricity flowing through him was enough to make his muscles spasm and contract, causing him to panic and try to gasp for air that he didn’t have. It wasn’t as painful as the baton/ lightsaber the hunters had used to knock him out but it still hurt like a bitch.  
“It’s ok Stiles, shallow breaths.” Isaac said from directly to his left.  
From where he was he could see the pack looking at him, concerned. Really? They were concerned about him? If they hadn’t noticed, they were in exactly the same situation, probably worse considering that they’d been strung up for longer.  
If he was in his right frame of mind, Stiles would have thought up a snappy remark but the constant locking and unlocking of his jaw kinda prevented that.

The sound of the door creaking open startled them all- none of them had been expecting the hunters to return to quickly after securing Stiles. But sure enough, the lock clicked open to reveal… not who they’d been expecting.


	11. That Shit'll Come Back With You.

“Stiles!” his dad’s voice made him look up in an instant.  
Stiles knew how it all looked. He was hanging from a wall by his wrists, being run though with electricity. Any idiot who knew about werewolves could have probably guessed why he was up there.   
It was sheer dumb unluckiness that the second person to walk through the entrance to their cell was none other than Chris Argent. The hunter scanned them all over before his eyes finally came to rest on Stiles. Stiles could tell from the moment he walked in the hunter knew exactly what was going on (seriously, he was going to have to go to Deaton about this luck thing).  
“Stiles.” Chris addressed him calmly coming over to stop the sheriff from getting to close.  
“Mr Argent.” Stiles replied nervously.  
The hunter sighed, like he was pretending for a second that he hadn’t already guessed Stiles’s new wolfy disposition. “We’re going to shut off the power now, but if anything happens it’s going straight back on, you understand?”

As soon as the electricity was cut off everyone, except Stiles, managed to free themselves from their manacles. Apparently these hunters hadn’t bothered reinforcing the concrete. Fools.  
It took all of about four seconds for Scott and Isaac to free Stiles from his chains. He probably could have done it himself if he concentrated, but Derek was apparently taking no chances. Stiles was still newly turned and in danger of slipping into acute exhaustion, there was no way of knowing how much strength he still had left- especially after his little escape attempt earlier. A normal human would have probably passed out hours ago.  
His dad came up to him and wrapped his arms around him. Stiles took a few seconds just to breathe in his father’s musty scent before finally pulling away, he could smell the anger and relief pouring off his dad and being so close to the source was starting to hurt his nose.  
“I’m fine dad,” he reassured before turning to Derek and chis, who were conversing near the door to their cell, “can we get out of here? I think I’m just about ready to curl up and sleep for maybe a week, give or take a day.”  
Chris nodded. “Allison, Lydia are securing the other half of the building with some friends of mine. Once they join us we’ll be moving out.”  
As if summoned, the sound of footsteps echoed down the corridor to them. It didn’t take long for Allison to stick her head round the door and enter with Lydia close behind.  
What Stiles didn’t expect however was for Danny to be with them. He came in right alongside the girls, holding a crossbow of his own and wearing a black combat suit identical to the one the other hunters had been wearing earlier. The goalie wore a determined expression that Stiles had never seen the guy wearing before… it was a little disorientating.  
“Danny?” Jackson gasped; he probably more shocked than anyone considering it was his best friend that had just walked in.  
Danny simply sighed and nodded. “I’ll explain later but…”

He was cut off when Peter waltzed around the door like he owned the place.

Things slow down for Stiles. Well, thing hadn’t actually slowed down, it was probably just the bloodlust making things sharper, but he didn’t care. Stiles lunged at the elder werewolf and probably would have taken his head off if Erica and Isaac hadn’t caught him just in time.  
“I’ll kill you!” he yelled through a mouthful of fangs. When had that happened? Huh, he didn’t even know he had the energy to shift anymore.  
Erica tugged him back harder, “No you won’t.”  
“You’re right,” Stiles growled, “I’m not going to kill him, I’m just going to rip him to pieces and let him choke on his own blood… then maybe I’ll eat him.”  
Peter simply blinked at them, seemingly unsurprised at the claws and fangs Stiles was now sporting. “What have I, or haven’t I, done this time?”  
“You lied to the hunters to get us killed!” Scott yelled, interrupting whatever Stiles was going to say.  
The elder werewolf blinked again, insulted, “I would never…”  
“Give it up, the guy in the Stetson told us everything.” Jackson said firmly.  
“And you would believe some psychopathic hunter over your own pack? Tut, tut, Derek, I thought you were raised better than that.”  
Derek’s jaw tightened. “The hunter wasn’t lying.”  
“And neither am I. You can hear my heartbeat now can’t you?” Peter asked crossing his arms firmly over his chest.  
The room stilled for a second as every werewolf paused. If Peter was telling truth, and that hunter was telling the truth, who was lying?  
It didn’t really matter to Stiles though.  
“This is still all your fault.” He hissed through his rapidly fading control. The only thing that was keeping him grounded at the moment was the fact that his dad was standing a few feet away, giving him a look that was a cross between ‘crap, my son is a werewolf’ and ‘my son is a grounded werewolf’.  
Luckily Chris decided to step in before anyone decided to disembowel each other. “We can settle this on the outside. The Māhealani’s are taken care of but I don’t really want to push our luck. We should get back to Beacon Hills before they’re back on their feet.”  
“Wait,” Jackson said, puzzled, “Māhealani? Danny, you’re a hunter? Why didn’t you say anything?”  
Danny just shook his head, “I’ll explain once we’re out of here.”

Turns out they were back in Vegas. The underground network of tunnels they were being kept in led up into a casino, the same one they’d apparently hit while drunk. The place was littered with broken, overturned slot machines, smashed fittings and even a few empty bottles of werewolf liquor.   
No wonder they were pissed, Stiles thought to himself as they walked out through the front of the building, which was actually missing. It looked like they’d ripped off the front wall of the casino…  
Erica snorted. “At least we know where the rubble came from.”

No one laughed.


	12. Pull Yourself Together, Bro

To no one’s surprise, the parking lot outside was filled with black SUVs. Anyone driving by probably thought it was a secret services convention or something.  
“You know who the bad guys are because they’re usually the ones in black 4x4s.” Stiles snorted to himself as they passed one with an alarming number of bullet holes.  
Chris watched him out of the corner of his eye, “Stiles, three of these are ours.”  
“Oh right, yeah I knew that…” Stiles coughed into his hand. “So who’s riding with who?”  
“Stiles, Scott, Isaac and Derek will take this one. Alison, Danny, Boyd, Peter and I will take the second. And sheriff, you can take the last with Erica, Jackson and Lydia.” Chris announced as they reached their three SUVs- they were parked a little way away from the rest.  
The sheriff looked like he was going to protest but, unexpectedly, Derek cut him off. “Stiles is still getting used to his change and it wouldn’t be wise to have him in the same car as Peter... I’m sure we’d all feel safer if those two were apart.”  
“Oh nephew, you make it sound like we’re not standing right here.” Peter rolled his eyes.  
Stiles growled, low in his throat, causing everyone to turn and look at him.  
The sheriff sighed, “Point proven,” he pointed to his son, “but you and I are having a serious conversation about this when we get home.”  
“Sure thing dad.” Stiles muttered, climbing in the back of his appointed SUV and closing the door behind him to escape his dad’s disappointed stare.  
He sat there for a moment, contemplating. His senses may have been on the brink from a tough couple of days, but he could pick up on enough to know that his dad was really mad and disappointed about something. It didn’t even feel like it was just directed at him and his new wolfyness either… had Lydia and Allison told his dad about the wedding?  
Oh boy, he was in big trouble. His dad didn’t fly off the hook very often but Stiles could sense that his father was close to it, dangerously so.

To Stiles’s surprise, Derek climbed in the back instead of the driver’s seat, leaving Scott and Isaac to squabble over who got to drive. Without thinking Stiles curled into Derek’s side (he did not cuddle, nope) and breathed in his alpha’s scent.  
Yeah, he thought to himself, this is totally platonic. He’s not gonna be pissed at me after this, we can so totally go back to the way things were before, once we get an annulment… And there was the howling again. He was really starting to dislike his wolf- even if they did share a similar interest. Just because they both kind of liked (there was nothing kind of, and ‘like’ was probably putting it lightly) Derek, that didn’t mean anything would happen. Derek probably thought of Stiles as just a friend. Stiles was a pack member and that was that.  
So, he ignored his other urges and simply pressed against his alpha’s side more. Stiles had almost completely forgotten how good it felt to simply fall asleep without being knocked out of consciousness by someone.

When Stiles finally stirred it was only because the sun was shining in his face. He tried to open his eyes but had to shut them again almost immediately, choosing instead to hold up a hand while they adjusted.  
That was about the time he realised that he wasn’t still in the car. He wasn’t even in his own room.  
He was in Derek’s room… in Derek’s bed.  
And Derek was right there with him.  
Scrambling around in his panic at waking up in his alpha’s bed, with his alpha, Stiles ended up falling inelegantly to the floor in a tangle of limbs and sheets. Thankfully they were both fully dressed because otherwise things would have gotten real awkward real fast. The last thing Stiles needed was his alpha thinking he was creepy- that was Peter’s role in the pack.  
“Stiles, what are you doing?” Derek asked with a sigh.  
Stiles flailed for a few more seconds before righting himself. “Hey there, Derek. What… what am… was I doing in your bed? I mean it’s a lovely bed, don’t get me wrong.”  
Derek simply raised one bushy eyebrow in response, “You don’t remember?”  
“Oh god, not this again.” Stiles paled, going still.  
That actually made Derek smirk, much to Stiles’s despair. “You fell asleep on me in the car Stiles.”  
“Yeah, I remember that part, but remind me how I ended up here.”  
“You wouldn’t let go once we got back,” Derek explained slowly, waiting for him to catch up, “Scott tried to pull you away but you ended up dislocating his arm.”  
Stiles’s jaw dropped. “I did what?!”  
“You also growled at your father. I believe he wants to ‘speak’ with you about that later too.” Derek said with a grimace.  
Oh, he was in deep.

Stiles stood slowly, even with his new reflexes he wasn’t the most stable person on the planet. The sheets he was still wrapped in slipped as he straightened but he caught them before they could fall to the floor.   
“Sorry about your sheets man,” he muttered rubbing the back of his head. Werewolves, because of their sensitive noses, were usually specific about who they let near their bedding, as unfamiliar or undesirable scents could keep them awake (Stiles had briefly looked it up when Scott had started to decline sleepovers). He couldn’t imagine what it must have been like for Derek, a born wolf… “I’ll replace them. Do you have any colour preferences or is black just standard?”  
“I,” Derek stopped and rubbed his face, changing his mind about whatever he was about to say, “don’t worry about the sheets. Just go and get changed before the others get back.”  
Stiles followed where his alpha was pointing and noticed his case had been dumped at the other end of the room by someone- most likely Isaac, possibly Erica. 

He dumped the sheets on the bed and carried his bag to the bathroom where he stripped of his suit and took a quick shower using the closest body wash to hand. His own soap now burned his nose when he so much as sniffed the bottle, so he figured he was gonna have to go shopping when he got home.  
After getting dried off (thankfully he had his own towel), Stiles left the bathroom in jeans and a t-shirt feeling a thousand times better. The scent of coffee and something blander, cereal, came wafting up the stairs to great him, along with the combined scents of the rest of the pack and it made him pause for a second.  
He’d spent so much time running around and getting tortured that he hadn’t stopped to let it all sink in properly.   
He was a werewolf.  
He was officially part of the pack.  
He could make first line, join in with the others on full moon runs and spar with Scott and Isaac to his heart’s content. He didn’t have to be the loser responsible for research anymore (not that he thought of himself a loser). No, now he could be out there saving Beacon Hills from the forces of evil- or whatever Peter had planned for them that month.

And if that was his father’s voice he was hearing from the kitchen, he could also say goodbye to his freedom for the foreseeable future.


	13. We’re Torching All Of It

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> this if the last chapter, sorry it took so long guys, work was eating me alive... anyway i hope you liked it, feel free to let me know what you thought of the fic in the comments :)

“So how did this whole werewolf thing happen again?” Stiles’s dad asked rubbing his temples in frustration.  
The whole pack, parents included, sat in a rough circle on the couches in Derek’s loft. According to Derek, they’d all turned up around noon, bringing enough coffee to caffeinate a small army. Everyone’s shoulders were slumped low and most had dark circles under their eyes, apart from Lydia of course, Stiles found it kinda ironic that the banshee was the only one who avoided looking like death.  
He looked up at his dad apologetically, “We’re not really sure what happened, I mean we think we know most of the big stuff that we did, but the timeline is still a little off…”  
Jackson snorted, “Understatement.”  
“Well,” Lydia said coolly, shooting a cold glare at Peter who sat in his usual spot on the stairs, “It would help if we had all the facts.”  
Peter merely smirked. “As you know I was only around for the beginning of your fateful night, and I wasn’t there when Derek decided to bestow the family heritage on Stiles. So you can all stop giving me accusing looks, for once I’m innocent.”  
Stiles was out of his seat before Peter could finish, he growled loudly in warning, “I don’t care what you say, this is your fault! We wouldn’t even have been there if it wasn’t for you. I… I…”  
Chris slowly began to rise out of his seat, “Stiles, calm down.”  
“No.” he snarled, keeping his golden eyes trained on the stairs.

Three things happened simultaneously. Stiles lunged, Scott and Isaac both jumped up to restrain him and Derek rose to block his path.  
The alpha roared, demanding submission from his beta and Stiles’s eyes went wide. It was exactly the same as out on the dirt road. The terror of being controlled gripped a hold of Stiles and suddenly he wasn’t in control anymore. He managed to slip past his friends holding him back and, without thinking, he attacked the source of his discomfort… Derek.  
Derek hadn’t been expecting the attack so he was unprepared for the claws suddenly inches from his face. The alpha tried to grab at the hand but missed, Stiles was unusually fast and dodged with ease, this time swiping his claws across Derek’s abdomen.  
“Stiles!” his dad called in an attempt to get him to calm down.

And it worked… kind of.

Stiles seemed to come back to himself as he ducked under Derek’s counter swipe and jumped back, still snarling but at least not attacking anymore.  
“And I thought I was the only one with built up anger problems.” Jackson murmured as if thinking out loud.  
Peter frowned with genuine curiosity, “Well that was interesting.” Apparently he didn’t understand the concept of not drawing attention to himself.  
Everyone else was too shocked to say anything. Stiles’s lack of respect of his alpha’s orders was well documented, but challenging Derek while his wolf was in control was something else entirely. It wasn’t something that any of the others had even thought about doing.  
“Stiles?” the sheriff said a little more tentatively this time.  
Stiles stopped growling and looked round, slightly confused. He watched as the others either sat back down or put their arms away, Allison, Chris and Danny had all drawn various weapons and were discreetly trying to sheath them without being noticed. The wolves in the pack were watching him with horror plastered across their expressions; it completely went against werewolf nature to attack your alpha. It was stupid, reckless and usually ended badly.

Peter spoke again, breaking the silence that had fallen. “Looks like you were right about it being true love, Derek.”  
All eyes in the room turned in Peter’s direction.  
“What?” Derek asked, confused.  
Peter rolled his eyes, “I know that you weren’t the most attentive learner growing up but I can remember personally teaching you this.”  
A sudden realisation seemed to come over Derek as he caught on to what his uncle was saying. He looked Stiles up and down once and his jaw set.  
“Will somebody please explain what’s going on? Because, that, was insane.” Danny piped up from where he was sitting next to Jackson.  
“Oh, you can talk,” Erica snorted, shattering the tension that had been building in the room, “why don’t you start by explaining yourself, hunter-boy?”

It was almost comical to watch every set of eyes in the room swivel from Peter to Danny. Stiles flopped down onto the sofa next to a now human Boyd. He wasn’t sure how they’d changed Boyd back from wolfy form and he didn’t really feel like asking.  
Danny squared his shoulders defensively from the onslaught of accusatory stares. “My mother moved me up here when I was five. She didn’t approve of her family’s methods and wanted to raise me the way she thought right.”  
“I think I remember.” The sheriff nodded, still seeming shell shocked from a moment before but slowly coming back to his senses. He was still new to the supernatural after all. “I had to arrest her shortly after she moved here for breaking a guy’s nose.”  
“That was my uncle,” Danny said simply, “he came to try and force her to come back so my mother broke his nose. Nobody bothered coming back for us after that. We’ve mostly been trying to keep out of hunting, but when I heard you guys had gone to Vegas so close to the full moon, I contacted Mr Argent and we put the pieces together.”  
Chris agreed, “If it wasn’t for Māhealani, we probably never would have found you.”

There was a murmured chorus of ‘thank you Danny’ that went round before the goalie, now hunter, shrugged it off.  
Stiles may or may not have been a genius but he could tell that all of the attention was making Danny embarrassed.  
He raised his hand and got the other’s attention. “Can we like, you know, get back to the topic of how we’ve all just gone through hell because Peter decided it would be a good idea to wind us all up and watch us spin?”  
Allison, who’d been observing the conversation thus far, finally decided to pitch in. “We willingly drank that alcohol Stiles, knowing full well what the consequences would be. Anything we did while we were drunk is on us, just because we can’t remember it and Peter can, doesn’t make him the bad guy.”  
“Peter is always the bad guy!” Stiles threw his hands in the air, fighting for control of his shift again. It was safe to say he’d been supressing his anger over the others’ inability to see just how evil Peter was, for a long time. “I got the bite… I married DEREK! Neither of those things would have happened if Peter had done his job and supervised us like he was supposed to!”  
Isaac said, “Derek’s not that bad” at the same time his dad said, “You did what now?” and Stiles didn’t know if he wanted to punch Isaac or run and hide from the fact that he’d just blurted that out in from of his dad.

Stiles winced as the sheriff glanced down at the rings that he and Derek had either put off removing or forgotten about- he didn’t know which was the truth.  
“When exactly were you going to tell me about his?”  
Stiles gaped at his dad like a fish. How do you still your sheriff father that you married an alpha werewolf and former murder suspect in Vegas whilst drunk?  
“Uh,” he said dumbly, “maybe in like twenty years when this is all just a bad dream?”  
His dad let out an exaggerated sigh and went back to rubbing his temples.  
“I take it you’re planning on getting a divorce then?”

Stiles looked at Derek, only to find his alpha staring at him with an expression he couldn’t quite figure out. If Stiles didn’t know any better he would have said it was longing… or constipation, but he figured longing was more romantic.  
“Dude,” he said confused, “that is what you want right? I mean I don’t mind either way, but I figured you’d rather cut the ties and go mingle. I didn’t even think you swung this way, man.”  
Derek didn’t say anything; he just kind of studied a specific spot on the floor.  
In the absence of the alpha’s opinion, Peter decided to speak up. “Please Stiles, you know how emotionally constipated my nephew can be at times.”  
(Huh… maybe he wasn’t so far off with his constipation theory.)  
“You should have seen him when he was younger,” Peter continued, “He was always pining after someone he’d convinced himself he couldn’t have, and those that he thought he could have usually turned out to be evil.”  
This time Derek growled. “Enough!”  
Peter tried to cut in again, “I…”

With a roar, Derek shifted. He growled at them before spitting out around his fangs, “That’s it, everyone out!”  
“But,” Lydia said with a frown, “we still have things to discuss.”  
Another roar from Derek silenced her objection and she stormed out, throwing her famous sniper’s stare over her shoulder as she left. Stiles felt sure that there’d be hell to pay. One does not simply offend Lydia and live to tell the tale.  
Jackson seemed to get the same idea because he jumped up and followed Lydia out the door.  
“And the rest of you.” Derek gritted out in his alpha tone, refusing to meet anyone’s eye.  
Stiles watched as the rest of the pack filtered out with withering looks at both he and Derek. 

Stiles was staying firmly in place, refusing to move even when his father tried to persuade him to leave with him. Once the loft was empty and even Peter had grudgingly accepted his alpha’s command, he crossed his arms over his chest defensively.  
“So will you tell me what Peter was talking about just now, or do I have to go and ask him myself? He seems unusually happy to talk and when that happens it’s never really a good thing.” Stiles said waving one arm around in the traditional Stilinski manor. “Cause I mean, if you don’t wanna get an annulment that’s fine with me, but we’re gonna have to start talking. Because, hello, we’re married Derek and talking is something married couples usually tend to do very well.”  
Derek finally chose to meet Stiles’ eyes then. He looked almost sad. “You like me?”  
Stiles face palmed, “Well, yes and if you’d actually used your nose once in a while I’m pretty sure you would have noticed. The real revelation here is that YOU like me, because I never saw that coming in a thousand years, ok?”  
“Stiles,” Derek said, sounding exhausted, “you don’t just like me, it’s more than that. What Peter was talking about… your wolf doesn’t like taking orders because it thinks of its self as of an equal rank to mine.”  
“I don’t understand, if my wolf is like that then how are we going to fix this because, hello! We’re married and you’re still gonna keep giving the pack order’s that I’m not gonna like.” Stiles huffed out, becoming frustrated, but not yet on the verge of shifting. “And how does that relate to my feelings at all… unless… are you talking about mating?”  
Derek flushed.  
“Oh my god you are! You know that goes both ways right? You have to really like me too, like a lot.”  
With a sigh Derek rubbed his race with his hand, “Yes Stiles, both my wolf and I like you now can we please just…”  
Stiles was across the room in a heartbeat. He grabbed Derek’s collar and pulled him in for a kiss, he could almost hear his wolf howling triumphantly. 

Then the door to the loft slid open. They broke off and turned to face a horrified Scott, who held his phone in his hand as if he was about to show them something.  
“What is it, dude?” Stiles said awkwardly. “We were kind of having a moment here.”  
Scott snapped out of his stupor, “Stiles you have to see these!”  
It took a second to click, “Wait… you’re telling me there’s pictures from the other night?”  
His best friend nodded, “My phone was dead, but I charged it up and you’re not gonna believe some of these…”  
Derek had come over at this point; he seemed equally as interested as Stiles was.

“Ok,” Stiles said after a moment’s thought, “We look at these once and then delete them.”


End file.
